


The Cost of Living

by devon380black (kryptonian17)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptonian17/pseuds/devon380black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wipes the sweat on his face, takes a deep breath and schools his expression into one of impassivity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cost of Living

He left.

 

It's that simple.

 

Or rather, it's a simple as that but then life has other plans for him.

 

He doesn't notice it at first. He's intent at trying to scrape out a normal life. He turns a blind eye to weird occurrences and almost succeeds at being ignorant until it bites him.

* * *

He's standing in his room, looking at his closet and trying to decide which shirt to wear for tomorrow when the small hairs on the back of his neck start to stand. His palms start to sweat and his heart rate quickens. He gazes from left to right, checking for any signs of... of what... he doesn't want to acknowledge.

 

He takes a deep breath and slowly his body returns to its normal state. He brings a hand to his face to check for any residual effects (furry sideburns, elongated canines... or even, smooth thick scales). Satisfied with what he feels, he brushes it away as a random occurrence. He closes the closet doors, gets in bed, and goes to sleep.

* * *

A scream wakes him up. It's still dark and when he looks at his clock, it's 4 am. He wonders who the scream was from. He lives in a relatively quiet neighborhood. Somewhere outside he hears a noise. Probably just a cat, he says to himself. He gets out of the cold bed and walks to the kitchen for a glass of water.

 

It's only when he has gulped down two glasses does he feel the burn in his throat go away.

* * *

He remembers cold hands. Cold hands and warm breaths ghosting on his face. A sweet smile and bright eyes looking up at him.

 

He remembers warmth in his arms, her hair soft as he burrows his nose at her nape, a smile on his lips. He remembers holding her, hearing her give a content sigh.

 

He remembers reaching for something cold... a key... an invitation... a promise.

**"NEXT STOP -"**

 

He jolts awake and finds himself sitting in the train, looking out the opposite window to a perfume ad. It's scarlet and gold smoke gradually combining into a woman's visage. He blinks and before he can look at it again, the train starts to move. Streaks of color blur out until he only sees the darkness outside the windows.

 

He's zoning out. Eyes blinking and trying to stay awake. That's when he sees it. Something flashing by. He thinks it's a train warning system and waits for the broadcast.

 

But as he waits, he figures out that there won't be any announcements. He looks around and for the first time, notices that he's the only one in the train except for a slumped figure near the doors.

 

He looks back to the windows and that's when he sees them again. Red lights. One, two, three, four. Always in two pairs. Moving with the train.

_Eyes._

_It's eyes._

 

The lights in the train flicker and start to dim. He stands up; his hands bracing him from the lurching of the train. He feels the train speed up, the metal compartments groaning, and he edges to where he saw a fire extinguisher. He wants something heavy to defend himself from the things outside.

 

The lights flicker one last time before plunging the whole compartment in darkness.

 

The window creaks and there's a horrible screaming sound as metal is ripped apart.

 

He hears a growl before he sees two red eyes pouncing on him.

 

His skin is being peeled off his arms but he won't put them down. If he puts them down, he knows he'll surely die.

_A bite to the neck; the carotid artery bursting. Liquid warmth flowing out of him until he drowns in his own blood. If not before being eaten by this monster in front of him._

 

One particularly good swipe has him screaming in agony and that's when he fights back.

_No, I won't die like this._

 

He swings out his arm and his hands catch it's snout. There's a whine and then the sound of something hitting the floor.

 

The lights return and he blinks his eyes to get acclimated to the change. He looks down...expecting to see what attacked him.

 

There's no one on the floor. A quick look at the windows and he gulps because there's not even a tiny gap where something could enter or exit the train.

 

He turns around and that's when he sees...

 

Blood.

 

Blood and innards everywhere.

 

Torn clothes and signs of what might have been human.

 

Traces of the only other passenger on the train.

 

He can't help but start dry-heaving. He brings his hands to his mouth to stop himself and finds it wet and warm. And smelling tangy and rusty.

 

At the back of his mind, he knows that smell. He brings his hands away from his face and looks at them.

 

"NOOOOO!"

_Not again. NOT AGAIN._

 

He hurriedly steps back from the carnage in front of him. He looks back down at his hands and slips. His head hits the floor and his vision starts to dim. He tries to stay awake. He hears steps coming to him.

 

"Help me. Please help me..."

 

He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to stay awake. There's a shadow in front of him. He opens his eyes and takes a deep breath while trying to scramble away from the creature in front of him.

 

A huge clawed hand bears down on his throat. It's snout closes in on him, aiming for his neck. It growls and he leans his neck as far away as he can. It's fetid breath caresses his skin as it whispers.

 

"Hello... I've been looking for you"

 

Jackson frantically flails and kicks to get away but it doesn't do any good. He's pinned down until the creature lets up its hand.

 

"Get off of me!"

 

It's grins at him. All rows of sharp teeth and red eyes. Then it growls and bites his neck.

 

Jackson screams.

 

And falls off of his seat.

 

People are looking at him.

 

He catches his breath and gives a reassuring smile to the other passengers in the train.

 

He knows how this works.

 

Show them what they want to see.

 

Hide what you really feel inside.

 

Inside, he's still freaked out about the daydream... Nightmare? Hallucination?

 

He wipes the sweat on his face, takes a deep breath and schools his expression into one of impassivity.

 

* * *

**  
**

Somewhere in his bag, his phone vibrates. His inbox has one unread message.

 

It's from Danny.


End file.
